Oct., 1891. 
BURMA AND ITS PEOPLE. 
233 
hours, were refreshing themselves with a nap previous to 
returning for another spell of the performance. 
After the evening drive comes dinner, a good square 
British meal, served by noiseless Indian “ boys ” in white 
garments ; thereafter music, conversation and so forth, till 
bed time, and then, after careful adjustment of the necessary 
mosquito net, one sleeps soundly with open doors and windows 
till the rising sun proclaims that another day has dawned. 
So passed our days at Tongoo, all too swiftly, each bringing 
nearer the time when we must once more say “ farewell ” to 
our children—yet by no means without variation. 
Native musicians, conjurers and snake charmers visited 
the house from time to time and formed subjects for the 
camera ; and there was no lack of hospitality or of pleasant 
society among the civil and military officers, the latter being 
attached to two wings of British and native regiments quartered 
in the splendid barracks and cantonments which skirt the fine 
Maidan, or parade ground, of this important station. 
Moreover, we had excursions into the jungle, visited the saw 
mills of Kanvut Gwyn, where we saw elephants stacking the 
timber logs in greatpiles and,lastly, spent a week in Mandalay, 
the “ Golden City,” in which Theebaw once reigned, and which 
is now the capital of our Upper Province annexed in 1886. 
Fourteen hours are occupied in this journey of 200 miles. 
The line passes in turn through native villages, English 
military posts, forest and jungle, dreary wastes where for 
many miles the arid soil yields nothing but dense growths of 
cacti and again through tracts of well wooded and highly 
cultivated country, in which as many as three crops of paddy 
are harvested in the year. 
Here, as darkness comes on, you see, by the light of fires 
flickering among banyan and pipul trees, teams of oxen 
treading out the grain, just as it was done when the Pharaohs 
ruled in Egypt or Assyrian monarclis in Nineveh. Through¬ 
out this region of Upper Burma we noticed with satisfaction 
that the stockades by which every village was formerly pro¬ 
tected from sudden attack are being allowed to fall into 
decay, being now no longer needed. It is true that armed 
police guards still patrol the railway stations on arrival of 
the trains, but this is rather a reminder of the settled order 
which prevails than a necessity, and the number of Sharis 
and Karens, with an occasional member of some more remote 
tribe, a Shanthoo, Paloung or Padoung, who mingle with 
the lowlanders at every roadside station, shows how rapidly 
the country is being opened up, and how strongly the feeling 
of general security is taking possession of its inhabitants. 
(To be continued.) 
